


You Showed up Just in Time

by ladyannabethstark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Artist Clarke, F/M, Language, Long-Distance Relationship, Modern AU, Sexual Content, Soldier Bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyannabethstark/pseuds/ladyannabethstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Bellamy meet at a bar and spend the night together, unaware that this chance meeting will change everything for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt given to me on tumblr - met you at a bar but it turns out you’re a soldier and you’re getting shipped into combat tomorrow au.
> 
> Title is from This Love by Taylor Swift.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. I plan on continuing but that all depends on your reaction.

Clarke’s heavy sigh filled the almost empty bar as she sat heavily on a stool. The low murmur of the press conference showing on the television mounted on the wall did nothing to cheer her up.

“Long day?”

Looking to her left, she saw a man with hunched shoulders and a whiskey held between his hands.

“Long year,” Clarke replied.

He smiled slightly, nodding his head as if he knew exactly what she meant.

“Sounds like a good reason to get a drink,” he said.

Clarke ordered a whiskey sour from the bartender before turning to look at the man again. She considered him carefully, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. Finally making up her mind, she gathered herself and stood, making her way down the bar.

“Maybe a drink isn’t all I need,” Clarke said, sliding onto the stool next to him.

He looked at her with surprise and a smile slowly formed on his face.

“Bellamy,” he said, holding out his drink.

“Clarke,” she replied, clinking her glass against his.

Once they both took a drink, Bellamy turned his entire body to face her fully.

“So why is your year so bad?” he asked.

Clarke considered brushing the question off or changing the subject but she saw the look in his eyes and the temptation quickly disappeared.

“Family shit,” she finally answered, facing him as well. “My dad died last year and things have been tense with my mom. We’ve argued a lot, mostly over her career and mine.”

“What does she do?” Bellamy asked.

She hesitated before pointing up at the television where her mother was giving a speech behind a podium that was printed with the Presidential seal.

“That,” Clarke told him.

“Your mom’s the surgeon general?”

She murmured her confirmation, taking a long drink of her whiskey sour.

“She’s announcing that she’s running for president,” Clarke told him.

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t say a word, waiting for her to continue.

“I was there when she was planning that press conference. Her campaign manager suggested that she could easily win because of the sympathy vote that came from my dad’s death,” she continued.

“What did you do?” he asked, already sensing where this was going.

“Smashed an expensive crystal vase against the wall,” Clarke answered with a slight smile. “Scared the hell out of the campaign manager. Mom understood why but they agreed that it’s best I’m not there for the announcement.”

Bellamy looked like he was torn between remaining serious for her and laughing at the thought of her throwing a vase with all her inconsiderable might.

“What do you do?” he asked, gracefully changing the subject for her.

She smiled at him gratefully before answering.

“I own an art gallery. You?”

“Currently unemployed,” Bellamy answered.

She didn’t push that subject, knowing it could be touchy.

“Well, to shitty years I guess,” Clarke sighed.

“Maybe they’re improving,” he suggested.

She looked at him with surprise before laughing.

“That line work on all the girls?” Clarke asked.

He grinned, shaking his head.

“I guess we’ll see.”

* * *

Clarke giggled as Bellamy pressed her against the wall of the apartment hallway. With one hand tangled in his hair and the other arm wrapped around his shoulders, she titled her head back, not even caring when it thumped loudly against the wall. Her laughter cut off with a gasp as his nipped at her throat and slid his knee between her thighs.

“Inside,” she breathed out.

Bellamy fumbled with his pockets before pulling a set of keys out of his coat pocket. When he dropped them with a loud curse, she laughed once more and he gave her a sheepish smile before bending over to pick them up.

“Smooth,” Clarke said, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“I can be smooth,” he defended himself, straightening up.

“I’m sure,” she said, grinning at him.

Bellamy reached out and put his arm around her waist, pulling her in until they were pressed close together.

“Smartass,” he muttered before kissing her deeply, walking her backwards until her back was pressed against his door and he was shoving his key in the lock.

Once they staggered over the threshold, she barely waited for Bellamy to kick the door shut before pulling away to shed her jacket. He did the same, keeping a lustful eye on her as she tugged her dress over her head and kicked off her scuffed boots. When he was down to just his jeans and socks, she backed away and let her eyes take their fill. He was all defined muscles and perfection, like he was molded by practiced hands in the same way a sculptor created the Greek statues she loved to admire. She could see several light scars that stood out in sharp relief from his olive skin. Briefly, Clarke wondered what it would be like to draw him, her hand itching for a sketchbook. She pushed away the thoughts and reached out, pulling him in to slant her mouth over his once more.

His hands were callused as they fluttered over her smooth skin. She arched into his touch and tangled her hands in his soft hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp. Bellamy shivered at the feeling as he struggled with her bra for a moment before unhooking it with both hands, letting a noise of triumph against her lips. When she smiled, he did the same. They bumped into their fair share of furniture and walls as they headed for the hallway, especially since Clarke was leading them even though she had no real idea of where to go.

“Bedroom,” she demanded when Bellamy tried to press her against the wall and hook his fingers in her underwear.

He broke away from her long enough to lead her to the door and shove it open with his hip. Clarke didn’t hesitate to push him inside, reaching for his belt buckle. He stood still as she dealt with it, pulling it through the loops and tossing it aside. As he worked on unzipping his pants, she sat down on the bed and waited. Once Bellamy was down to his boxers, Clarke seized his hand and pulled him onto the bed. Cupping his cheek with one hand, she pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss before scooting back to lie atop his pillows. Bellamy seemed to be in a daze for a moment, kneeling at the end of the bed watching as she brushed her hair out of her face and sank her teeth into her lower lip, waiting for him to move. When he finally crawled up to hover over her, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and played with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“You okay?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in question.

“More than okay,” he assured her, brushing his fingers over her jawline. “You’re beautiful.” 

Clarke didn’t know how to respond to that but luckily he didn’t give her long to think about it. His lips found her throat and she was lost to the sensation of his warm body pressing to hers. Whatever daze he was in before was long gone. Bellamy’s hands roamed freely, leaving her skin tingling in their wake, as his head ducked lower until he was pressing soft kisses to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a soft sigh when the rough pad of his thumb brushed over her nipple and his stubble scratched at the valley between her breasts. Clarke didn’t have to say a word to urge him on. He knew exactly what she needed so desperately when she let out a low whine and arched her back. Bellamy responded by teasing her slowly, tracing his tongue around one nipple while rolling the other between his finger and thumb. Clarke sank her teeth into her lip and gripped his shoulders tightly, her breaths coming out quick and sharp as she rolled her hips against his. When a groan escaped his mouth and he pulled away to look down at her, she reached up and ran her fingers through his soft hair.

“What?” he said, responding to her gaze.

“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just didn’t expect to end up here.”

“And?” Bellamy said.

She grinned, pushing on his shoulders to flip him over. Once she was settled with her legs straddling his thighs, Clarke reached up to brush her thumb over his lower lip.

“I’m glad I walked into that bar,” she said softly.

She bent down before he could respond, touching her lips to his throat. Bellamy let out a sigh, tilting his head back and splaying his hands over her back. Clarke didn’t rush, taking her time as she kissed her way down to his chest and stomach. It was almost empowering to feel the twitch of his muscles beneath her lips and to hear the soft noises that he couldn’t help but gasp out. When she lifted her head, he pushed up on his elbows and stared back at her with lidded eyes and parted lips.

“You’re kinda beautiful yourself, you know,” Clarke said as she sat up to straddle him.

Bellamy exhaled with a smile, pushing himself to sit. She leaned into him as one of his hands cupped the back of her head, unable to resist kissing him. Rocking her hips against his, she smiled at his groan. Even though she was desperate for friction, it was too tempting to tease him a bit more.

“God Clarke,” Bellamy groaned, his hands gripping her hips.

She whined when the angle changed and his cock brushed against her clit through her underwear. Clarke’s head dropped to his shoulder as his hips surged upwards and he held her tight to him, flipping them over with ease.

“I want to taste you,” he said, gazing down at her lustfully.

As amazing as the image of his head between her thighs was, she was too desperate for slow and sensual.

“Later,” Clarke said, shoving at her underwear. “I need you now.”

Bellamy followed suit, stripping his boxers off as she tossed her last piece of clothing across the room. She had to wait as he searched his bedside table for protection. As soon as he positioned himself over her once more, she let her thighs fall apart and fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss. Bellamy’s fingers parted her folds with the ease of experience, touching and stroking her until she was trembling with need.

“Now,” she said impatiently.

“Romantic,” Bellamy remarked.

She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his cock.

“Are you arguing?” Clarke breathed, stroking him slowly.

“Hell no,” he huffed, his eyes half-closed as she guided him to her entrance.

Their gasps were almost in sync when he began pressing into her, filling her slowly. Bellamy’s restraint was almost commendable, the veins in his forearms standing out sharply as he hovered over her and groaned out her name. Reaching up, she pulled him down and kissed her way up his jaw.

“I want you to fuck me,” Clarke whispered, nipping at his earlobe.

“Fuck,” he swore, his hips stuttering.

“Make me scream,” she dared him.

Bellamy’s eyes flashed open, almost completely black and full of lust. He pulled out of her slowly before snapping his hips forward. Clarke let out a low cry, her fingers digging into his shoulders. They began moving together, falling into a rhythm with ease. He thrusted into her as she rolled her hips up. He hitched her leg up and she wrapped the other around his waist. Bellamy pulled her up to sit in his lap and she didn’t hesitate, grinding and rocking against him. It wasn’t until she reached between them to rub at her clit that her body began quaking and her lower belly curled into a tight ball ready to explode.

“I’m close,” she whimpered, turning them around to push him on his back.

Bellamy met her rocking hips with thrusts of his own, grunting and growling out her name among a litany of other curses. Her hand shot up and gripped the headboard of his bed as his thumb replaced her fingers, rubbing over her clit in quick circles.

“Bellamy,” she whined, her body shaking and sweating as she fought to prolong the experience.

“You can do it babe,” he said, his voice tight with effort as he ran his hands over her back and ass. “Come for me.”

She let out a hoarse cry, coming harder than she could remember in a long time. Her back arched and her toes curled as she rode it out. Between her mind-blowing orgasm and her body growing limp, Bellamy pulled her down for a kiss and groaned against her lips as he came as well. Clarke collapsed against his chest, letting out deep breaths as she slowly recovered.

“Holy shit,” she finally breathed.

Bellamy hummed in agreement, trailing his fingers up and down her back. The closeness was fine until the sweat began to cool on her skin and Clarke needed a bit of air. Rolling off of him, she threw her arms above her head and stared at the ceiling with a smile.

“We have got to do that again.”

Bellamy laughed, standing up to cross the room. Clarke watched as he discarded the condom, smirking slightly at the sight of his bare ass. It was only when she tore her eyes away from him and noticed something hanging on the door of his closet that she sat up abruptly.

“You’re in the Marines,” she said, holding the sheet to her chest as she raked her eyes over the pressed uniform.

Bellamy glanced at her over his shoulder as he tugged a pair of boxers on.

“Most people can’t tell the difference,” he said, looking surprised.

“My dad was a Marine,” Clarke told him.

He returned to the bed, sitting beside her while looking anywhere but at the closet.

“Are you a general?” she said teasingly.

Bellamy laughed and shook his head.

“Not quite,” he told her.

She grinned and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I know, Captain,” Clarke said, able to tell easily by the decorations on the uniform. “That’s impressive. You’re pretty young.”

“I just worked hard for it,” Bellamy shrugged.

“All the best ones do,” she said.

He looked over at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“I ship out at 0800,” Bellamy said suddenly.

Clarke’s eyes widened at the words that she didn’t expect.

“That’s why I was drinking. I signed on for another tour a few weeks ago but I didn’t expect for the call to come so soon.”

She simply nodded, running a hand through her hair as she looked away from him. Clarke knew exactly how it worked. Sometimes her dad would have to leave at a day’s notice when he was needed.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy said, pulling her mind away from all the tearful goodbye memories.

“Fine,” she said, forcing a smile on her face as she looked over at him again. “What happened to being unemployed?”

“I said currently,” he reminded her with a grin. “I don’t go on the clock until I step on that plane.”

Clarke shook her head with a laugh.

“You know, your hair isn’t exactly standard.”

Bellamy grimaced, touching his hand to his dark curls.

“My sister usually cuts it for me. But she’s pissed at me for enlisting again so…” he trailed off.

Clarke felt sympathy for his sister but knew better than to voice her thoughts.

“Do you have any styling scissors around?”

* * *

When Clarke set out to drink that night, she never expected to be cutting her recent hookup’s hair in nothing but her underwear and his oversized t-shirt. Yet here she was, snipping away at his dark curls.

“It’s a shame. You have great hair,” she said mourningly.

Bellamy huffed out a laugh.

“It’ll grow back,” he assured her. “So you’re an art gallery owner and a hairdresser?”

“No,” she said with a smile. “I got it in my head that I wanted to style hair when I was sixteen. Spent a year or so experimenting on my friends’ hair.”

“And how did that go?”

She grinned, concentrating on his hair.

“Most of them wore hats until I got the hang of it,” Clarke admitted.

“Maybe you should have told me this story before you took a pair of scissors to my hair,” Bellamy said, a fake wariness in his voice.

“Oh hush. I’m much more practiced now,” she said, cuffing his shoulder with her hand.

She could see his smile as she inspected the sides of his head before picking up an electric razor to finish off his now close cut hair. When she was done, she stepped away and removed the towel from around his shoulders.

“Do you have a broom?” she asked, glancing down at the kitchen floor.

“It can wait,” Bellamy said.

He ran a hand over his head, looking impressed at the finished product.

“You’re good,” he acknowledged.

“I told you,” Clarke said, setting the scissors aside.

Before she could do anything, he reached back and took her hand in his, tugging her around the chair. Clarke tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as he gazed up at her.

“Thank you,” he breathed, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

The soft gesture combined with the gentle look in his eyes made her heart flutter in her chest as her knees weakened.

“It’s my pleasure,” Clarke said with a wry smile, draping herself over his lap.

His arm wrapped around her waist, his fingers fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt that she wore.

“So what now?” she asked, brushing her thumb over a scar on his shoulder.

Bellamy glanced over at the microwave clock.

“I have four hours before I have to leave,” he told her.

“That’s practically an eternity,” Clarke said.

“Very true,” Bellamy agreed.

She laughed lightly as he pulled her in, effectively cutting her off with a very slow, languid kiss. 

“I wanna take it slow this time,” he said against her lips.

“I’m willing,” Clarke said, curling her fingers in her hair and kissing him again.

As it turned out, their kitchen floor sex was as satisfying as the first time.

* * *

Clarke sighed as she stepped out of the apartment, fully clothed and feeling like she was losing something that she never really had. Turning around, she took in the sight of Bellamy in his uniform, his hat tucked under his arm and a resigned look on his face.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she said, smiling at him as she held out a piece of paper with her number on it.

Bellamy took it with a smile, tucking it into his pocket.

“I won’t,” he said, bending down to give her one last sweet kiss. 

Clarke’s eyes fluttered closed and she let herself enjoy it until he pulled away.

“Walk me to my taxi?” he asked, holding his hand out.

“I’d be happy to,” she said, taking it without hesitation.

The trip down to the street was far too short and before she knew it, Bellamy’s luggage was loaded in the back of the taxi and he was hovering in front of the open back door. Clarke reached out before he could turn around, winding her arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Take care of yourself, soldier. That’s an order,” she said softly.

He leaned back into her embrace, letting out a soft sigh.

“Yes ma’am,” Bellamy said, pulling one of her hands up to his mouth so that he could kiss the back of it.

Clarke remained there for another few moments before stepping away. He looked back at her, giving her one last grin before climbing into the taxi. She didn’t cry as he drove away but she didn’t fight the sadness at seeing him go. Turning around to head back towards the bar where her car was parked, Clarke smiled and settled with the anticipation of seeing him again, whenever that may be.


	2. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke have a long-distance talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short drabble that I wrote to bridge between this first and second bigger parts. There's some angst coming so I wanted to have a tiny bit of fluff.

Clarke watched what could only be described as chaos in her beloved art gallery with wide, horrified eyes. Monty stood next to her with a grim look on his face.

“You signed off on this,” he reminded her.

“I signed off on a small gathering,” Clarke said quickly, shaking her head. “This is not small.”

There were at least thirty workers putting together tables piled with extravagant food and drink. Clarke could see her mother’s campaign manager on the other side of the room instructing the caterers on how everything should look. He was keeping a safe distance from her. They still didn’t see eye-to-eye and Clarke had been told by her mother to at least be civil with him more than once.

“How many people are coming to this thing?” Monty wondered.

She shrugged helplessly. When she agreed to host an event for her mother’s campaign at her gallery, Clarke thought that it would be a few high profile people who might agree to donate money. Not every rich person Abby Griffin had ever met. When they placed a table full of champagne glasses far too near to one of her favorite pieces in the room, Clarke turned away.

“I’m going to lock myself away in my office and pretend like none of this is happening,” she said miserably. “Tell me if someone needs me to sign something.”

Monty nodded, patting her shoulder as she passed. He didn’t work at her gallery but more often than not, he came in to help her out. Clarke didn’t know how he did it but he just seemed to know when she needed him. He’d stopped letting her say thank you a long time ago but she still went out of her way to show how grateful she was. Especially with everything that was happening with her mom. As soon as she closed her door, Clarke dimmed the lights and sat at her desk.

It took time but she’d finally come to terms with her mother’s campaign. Still, she should have known better than to agree to hold an event at her precious gallery. Clarke just knew the night wouldn’t end well. She eyed the formal dress hanging on the back of her office door, wishing that it would disappear along with the workers outside. When her phone’s alarm went off, all thoughts of her mother and the campaign flew from her mind. Clarke opened her laptop, her heart picking up pace as she signed onto Skype and waited. Sure enough, a video call came through within a minute and she couldn’t help but smile as she accepted it.

“Hey Princess,” Bellamy’s deep voice said before the feed cleared and she saw his freckled face and wide smile.

Clarke let out a sigh, dropping her head for just a moment before meeting his gaze again.

“You have no idea how much I need this right now,” she said, her relief nearly bringing her to tears.

“What’s going on?”

She shook her head.

“Mom stuff,” Clarke waved off, not particularly wanting to talk about it. “How are you?”

Bellamy accepted her answer.

“I’m hot,” he said with a shrug.

Clarke’s smile quickly turned to a smirk and he huffed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I’ve spent all day in the sun,” Bellamy explained.

“Working on your tan, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah. That’s what we’re doing here,” he told her sarcastically.

She let out a laugh and nodded.

“I knew it. Captain Bellamy Blake exposed,” Clarke said with an air of faux triumph.

“You are quite the detective,” he said, looking amused in spite of himself. “How is the gallery?”

She let out a groan.

“I made a huge mistake,” Clarke said miserably. “My mom wanted to have a donor event here.”

“And you said yes,” Bellamy guessed, already sounding sympathetic.

“I had some sort of mental lapse and she kept going on and on about how much she loved the look of the place and somehow it ended with me offering the space to her. I think it had to have been her plan all along. I was tricked, Bellamy. My gallery is a mess now. We both need to be avenged.”

“Okay. I’ll put your mom on the list between your apartment superintendent and the street vendor who gave you food poisoning four years ago,” Bellamy said, his face entirely serious.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him before letting out an unwilling laugh.

“How is everyone there? Miller?”

“I’m good!” she heard someone shout from a distance.

Bellamy sighed, shaking his head.

“You know, ever since that video call where you sang the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody, which they could all hear, I’ve had to threaten them all to keep them away during our time,” he told her. “They all want to know when I’m calling Clarke again. You’re famous here.”

“I used to sing Disney songs to my dad’s entire camp. You’re lucky I’ve matured since I was five,” Clarke said with a grin, leaning forward.

Bellamy laughed as the video blurred for a few moments before going black. She was used to it. When his image showed up again, he was leaning close to the camera as well.

“Let me see those eyes,” he said quietly.

Clarke blinked several times before staring deep into his eyes.

“God, they’re gorgeous,” Bellamy huffed, shaking his head. “You’re gorgeous.”

She flushed without looking away.

“I’m dressing up tonight,” Clarke said, leaning her head on her hand. “My mom wanted me to wear something soft, like lavender.”

“What color is it?” Bellamy asked.

“Red,” Clarke said proudly.

“You’d look good in red,” he said with an approving nod.

She smiled at him, hoping that one day he might actually have a chance to see her in it.

“I’m looking into getting some new pieces for the gallery once this mess is over,” Clarke said.

“Tell me about them,” Bellamy said, settling back in his chair.

She took the invitation, launching into a long story about how she found the pieces and the artists who created them. As she was describing the coloring in one of her favorites, she heard a yell from Bellamy’s end and cut off.

“You have to go,” Clarke said, knowing what it meant.

Bellamy glanced away and nodded at someone offscreen before giving her a regretful look.

“And I spent our entire time talking about an artist you don’t care about,” she sighed.

“I like hearing you talk about art,” Bellamy said in defense of her. “You get all passionate. It’s really cute.”

She wrinkled her nose, which only made him laugh in response.

“Take care of yourself, Captain,” Clarke said, following their usual goodbye ritual.

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a firm nod.

She gave him one last smile and waited for one in return before blowing a kiss to the camera and logging off. As she closed her computer and took a deep breath, Clarke realized that a short talk with Bellamy was all she needed to feel like she could actually get through the day. Glancing at the calendar on her wall, she mentally counted the months until she could see him in person again. Seven months seemed like a long time but Bellamy was definitely worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think!
> 
> I am over on tumblr - historicbellamyblake - and I'm always willing to talk about whatever you want. I also take prompts for Bellarke so you can send those too if you like.


End file.
